Harry Potter and Interagency Cooperation
by Commodore Norrington
Summary: HP crossover. What will happen when Ron recruits Gibbs to help with a case?
1. Introductions

"Mom!" the boy shouted, running from the tree grove. "Mom!"  
"What? What's wrong?" The boy's mother ran from the house, panicked.  
"Mom, it was awful..." he started, but before he could finish, his eyes went blank and his face took on a peaceful appearance. His mother, alarmed, wondered whether she should touch him. Before she could make up her mind, a car backfired on the street, disrupting her thoughts. She turned, searching for the offending vehicle, but no cars were on the street. Scared now, she turned back to her son. He looked perfectly normal now.  
"What did you want to tell me, honey?" she asked gently.  
"What? What are you talking about?"  
She didn't know what to think. She was about to chalk it up to one of those 'unsolved mysteries' and go inside when something caught her eye. A dress shoe was glinting in the sun, sticking out from behind a large bush at the edge of the grove. Telling the boy to get inside, she walked closer, dreading what she would find. Sure enough, the shoe was connected to a person and the person was not moving. He lay sprawled on the ground, as if he had just fallen, in a Navy uniform. Suppressing a scream, she ran inside to call 911.  
  
********  
  
"Ducky!"  
The medical examiner straightened from his crouched position over the body. The owner of the gruff voice was striding toward him, a scowl on his face.  
"No, Jethro," Ducky said before Gibbs even opened his mouth.  
"No what?"  
"No, I don't have a time of death yet," Ducky confirmed.  
"Well, what do you have?" Gibbs asked impatiently.  
"Nothing."  
"What?"  
"Nothing. Our Lieutenant Commander, aside from being quite dead, is in perfect health. No sign of asphyxiation, no wounds, no obvious effects of poison. The tox report will have to confirm that one, but right now poison is the only thing I can think of."  
"Okay, Duck. Let me know as soon as you have anything." Gibbs sighed in frustration. Starting off to ask Kate how her photos were coming, Gibbs saw a strange sight. A young man, probably 19 or 20, was walking around holding a stick. He was tall and had bright red hair, freckles, and too- small clothes. He waved the stick slowly over the ground, like a metal detector, seeming to search for something. As Gibbs approached him, he lifted the stick quickly, as if to attack, but seemed to remember something.  
  
********  
  
Ron Weasley, Auror-in-Training, was working his first case without a supervisor. Proud but nervous, he was trying to casually conduct a standard curse-detection sweep amidst a whole bunch of Muggle please-men. Normally Muggles were not a problem because Aurors got to a crime scene before them, but Ron had been having trouble Apparating lately. He had accidentally gone to Norfolk, England, instead of Norfolk, Virginia, before getting it right. Therefore, he had to do his tests surrounded by Muggles.  
He looked up as a stern-looking, silver-haired Muggle approached him. The Muggle had obviously seen him doing the sweep. He lifted his wand, preparing to wipe the Muggle's memory, but remembered suddenly his awful inability with Memory Charms. He lowered his wand and braced himself to play Muggle.  
"Excuse me, sir, this is a crime scene. You're going to have to leave," the Muggle said, leaving no room for argument.  
Ron played innocent. "Oh, sorry. I was, er, looking for..." he glanced around quickly for inspiration. "Leaves! For..." Ron remembered an odd Muggle habit his dad had told him about. "For my collection!"  
The Muggle raised an eyebrow. He was clearly not buying it. "On second thought, I think I'd like to ask you a few questions. Follow me." The Muggle headed toward a large van with the letters NCIS written on the side.  
Ron could not help himself. His father's fondness for Muggles had rubbed off on him. "Oh, cool! Are we going to the please station?" he asked eagerly.  
The Muggle looked at him strangely. "The what?"  
"The please station! Or is it the poh-lise station?"  
"The Police Station? No, we're not going there. We're going to NCIS headquarters."  
"Oh," Ron said disappointedly.  
  
********  
  
Gibbs looked at his extra passenger in the rearview mirror. Kate sat with the young man in the back of the truck, responding to his animated questions. He caught snatches of the conversation, but it didn't make much sense.  
"I drove my father's car once, but it took off..."  
"What's that? A guh-un? Cool..."  
"Are you a please-woman?" "Wicked..."  
"What's your name?" Gibbs asked the young man. He looked for an instant like he was trying to remember something, then shrugged and responded.  
"Ron Weasley," he said.  
"Special Agent Jethro Gibbs," Gibbs replied, realizing that he should have done this a long time ago.  
"Pleased to meet you, Agent Gibbs," the youth returned.  
  
********  
  
Ron was excited out of his mind. He was riding with Muggles in a Muggle truck, going to see a Muggle facility of some type. He couldn't help asking lots of questions. When Agent Gibbs had asked his name, he had tried to remember if there was any rule about giving your name to Muggles. If there was, he didn't recall it.  
The Muggle woman, Kate, was gorgeous and very kind. She answered his questions easily and asked him several of her own. She and the younger Muggle, Tony, acted a lot like Ron and Ginny.  
Ron did remember his mission in the midst of all his excitement about Muggles. The way he figured, they were helping him. They, too, were trying to find the murderer. Who knew? Maybe their Muggle techniques would come in handy. At least, that's what he planned on telling his supervisor.  
  
--------  
  
"Jethro," Ducky began. "I don't know what to make of this one. It's like nothing I've ever seen before."  
  
Gibbs glanced up, startled. For a case not to remind Ducky of something, somewhere, sometime, was strange indeed.  
  
"Have you ID'd him?" Gibbs asked, steering the conversation back to familiar territory.  
  
"Yes," Ducky pronounced, seemingly pleased to be able to give some useful information. "Lieutenant Commander Tyler Patterson. In charge of the commissary at Norfolk."  
  
"Thanks, Duck. Do you have the tox report yet?"  
  
"Ah, yes, of course. This is the strangest part. Again, nothing. No poison, certainly. No alcohol, even. This fellow has absolutely no business being dead."  
  
Gibbs' brow furrowed in frustration. He had no idea what was going on and that bothered him. Suddenly, he turned and stormed from Autopsy, heading upstairs as quickly as he could.  
  
"Kate, with me," he barked. "Tony, look up Lieutenant Commander Tyler Patterson. I want his life history."  
  
"You got it, boss," Tony replied, turning to the computer and going to work. Kate followed Gibbs to the interrogation room.  
  
"How's our nutcase?" Gibbs asked.  
  
"He's not a nutcase, Gibbs," Kate responded. "He's really quite rational. He's just fascinated by everything around him. It's like...it's like he's not really from earth."  
  
Gibbs just looked at her. As they looked through the window into the room, Ron Weasley was talking enthusiastically with the interrogator. Gibbs decided to take matters into his own hands.  
  
Entering the room like he meant business, Gibbs ushered the other interrogator out and got to work.  
  
"Your name is Ron Weasley, correct?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Age?"  
  
"Twenty. Well, this summer, anyway."  
  
"Occupation?"  
  
"Umm, Agent Gibbs, could I ask a favor?" Weasley's ears had gone red and Gibbs recognized his discomfort.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm really sorry about this, mate, but I don't have a choice..." Weasley suddenly grabbed Gibbs' hand and slammed it into the table. Before Gibbs could retaliate, or even react at all, he felt a jerk behind his navel and a sensation of traveling forward very fast.  
  
********  
  
Ron regretted having to do something so drastic, but he was getting desperate. The Muggles were questioning him and getting closer and closer to finding out about him. He hoped his supervisor would see the inevitability of his actions. He had, after all, broken several statutes. He had let a Muggle see him using his wand. He had made an unauthorized portkey. He had transported a Muggle on said portkey in full view of other Muggles. The list went on. Ron's stomach turned with dread as he thought of what his supervisor would say. He hoped his mistakes could be corrected, for the most part, with the Memory Modification of Agent Gibbs.  
They landed with a thud in the alley behind the visitor's entrance to the Ministry. Ron shoved a speechless Gibbs into the phone booth and dialed.  
"Ron Weasley, Auror-in-Training, escorting Jethro Gibbs, material witness," Ron said hurriedly after the cool female voice asked for their names.  
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," the voice said as the booth started downward. Ron glanced at Agent Gibbs. His eyes could not open any wider and he was rubbing his head, as if he thought perhaps he had hit it extremely hard on something. Ron dragged him to the elevator and selected the floor for Magical Law Enforcement. As several memos flew in behind them, Ron heard a thud. Turning around he saw Agent Gibbs seated on the floor, his legs having given out, staring widely around at everything. Ron almost laughed. He always enjoyed Muggles' reactions to the magical world.  
  
********  
  
Gibbs sat in shock on the floor of the elevator. He had just seen paper airplanes flying around all by themselves. Pushing himself up off the floor, he kept his hand on the wall to steady his shaky legs. He was dreaming. That had to be it. Weasley had slammed him to the ground or on the table or something, his head had been hit, and he was dreaming. There was no other rational explanation.  
Weasley dragged him off when they reached their floor. Winding their way through people, male and female, wearing what looked like dresses, they came to a desk behind which was seated a woman with her nose buried in a book. It was difficult to see her face, but she had bushy brown hair and wore a dress-thing similar to everyone else's. Weasley greeted her pleasantly.  
"Hey, Hermione! Look what I found," he said, pulling Gibbs forward.  
The woman looked up and her eyes widened. "Ron! You brought a Muggle to the Ministry? What were you thinking? What's Kingsley going to say? Oh, we are in so much trouble..." She was wringing her hands by now, thoroughly upset. She paced for a few moments, then seemed to reach a conclusion. "You'll just have to modify his memory," she stated matter-of- factly.  
Weasley opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then changed his mind. Gibbs recognized the look on his face, the look that said he wanted to impress a girl. He pulled out the stick Gibbs had seen earlier and raised it.  
"Obliviate!" he cried, clearly trying hard to do something. Gibbs promptly forgot what he had had for dinner last night.  
  
********  
  
Ron was nervous. He needed Hermione's help to get him out of this mess, but she was clearly not to happy with him right now.  
"What did you bring him here for anyway?" a slightly calmer Hermione asked.  
"He was about to find out about me..." Ron answered weakly, immediately knowing that was the wrong thing to say.  
"Well, he certainly knows now, doesn't he?" Hermione hissed. "Him and half the Muggle world!"  
Ron had only one card left to play. "I thought maybe he could help?"  
That started Hermione thinking. Ron knew that, as a Muggle-born, Hermione had a certain appreciation for Muggle technology. Although Muggle stuff fascinated him, he personally couldn't see the use of a fellytone when Floo was just as good and much easier.  
Hermione finally sighed. "All right," she consented. "But Kingsley doesn't find out. And," she held up her hand, seeing his mouth open. "And I'm in charge."  
Ron agreed, trying not to look too enthusiastic. He didn't mind Hermione being in charge. She was much better at this kind of thing anyway.  
The Muggle continued to be stunned by each new Magic development. Ron heard him gasp when a nearby mug-shot told him where to go and saw his eyes widen when Ron shut the mug-shot up with a Silencing Charm. He almost passed out when an Auror apparated right in front of them. Though Ron seriously doubted the agent's ability to help in the first place, he realized that any remote chance of his being useful was nullified by his confusion and fear.  
"Hermione, we should take him somewhere quieter. Somewhere less...magical," Ron suggested.  
"Good point, Ron. Um, how about number 12?"  
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Harry won't mind. But," he paused, considering an important matter. "How do we get him there?" He gestured toward Agent Gibbs.  
"Floo's easiest," Hermione replied, clearly having thought about it. "We should go now, while the fires are less busy."  
  
********  
  
Gibbs mutely followed his...guides, he supposed, though he considered them more as captors. He was starting to realize, primarily because of the throbbing pain in his hand, that this was not a dream. He didn't understand half of what they were saying; words like 'Muggle' and 'Floo' kept flying over his head. They both carried the thin sticks he had seen on Weasley earlier. He didn't know what they were, but he reasoned that in this bizarre place it would not be absurd to call them magic wands.  
Weasley and the woman, Hermione, led him to a row of fireplaces in the lobby area. They then proceeded to instruct him in the use of something called 'Floo powder'. He watched Hermione throw a pinch of the stuff into the flames, then, to his alarm, she stepped into them and called out what sounded like an address.  
"Number 12, Grimmauld Place," she shouted.  
Afraid to look, Gibbs turned his head to avoid witnessing the horrible death of what seemed like a rather nice girl. But, to his surprise, there was no screaming, no awful smell of burning cloth and flesh. She had simply disappeared. He was interested to find that his capacity to be amazed had not yet run dry.  
It was his turn, apparently. Weasley threw some more of the powder into the fire, turning the flames bright green, and shoved Gibbs inside. Weasley yelled the address for him, fortunately, because he still couldn't speak. Gibbs then found himself on the most unpleasant ride of his life. He could sleep on military transports, but this was a million times worse. He was spinning very fast, his vision a blur, his stomach churning. His arms knocked into things, so he tucked them into his sides. He closed his eyes, just in time to quell the nausea that threatened to become more. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt solid ground underneath him and fell forward onto a stone floor. 


	2. Explanations

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Shannon – Ron was on a training assignment, so there was probably an agreement with the Americans to let him work on it. As for the Floo, the story is a few years in the future, Voldemort has been defeated, and #12 is no longer the headquarters of the Order so therefore does not require the stringent security measures anymore. Good questions!  
  
When Ron emerged from the fireplace, Hermione was trying to comfort a distraught and very ill-looking Agent Gibbs. He seemed to slowly be regaining the ability to speak, due largely, no doubt, to the lack of overt magical activity in the stone kitchen. His mouth opened and closed like a fish's before he finally croaked out one word.  
"Coffee?" It was more a plea than anything else. Hermione looked as if she might fly off the handle again.  
"He's an American?"  
"Er, yeah," Ron answered, not sure what else to say. Hermione glared at him, before turning back to Agent Gibbs.  
"I'm sorry, sir. I've never made coffee before. I'm rather good at tea," she suggested. His face twisted involuntarily into a grimace. "Or I could give coffee a go," Hermione offered hastily. Agent Gibbs nodded gratefully and even managed a small smile.  
As Hermione bustled about, trying to make coffee without using too much magic, Ron sat with Agent Gibbs at the long table. The Muggle was starting to relax a little and the color was returning to his face.  
"Look, mate, I'm sorry about your hand. And for the shock. I don't want you to be scared, so let's get formal introductions out of the way. Agent Gibbs, this is Hermione Granger, one of my best friends and fellow Auror-in-Training," Ron began, noting the almost immediate look of confusion in Agent Gibbs' eyes. "We'll come back to that. Anyway, we are currently in the kitchen of our other best friend, Harry Potter's, house, in London. Any questions so far?"  
"Yeah," Gibbs said hoarsely. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Why am I here?"  
Ron grinned. "Well, you're here to help us. Of for us to help you. We're working on the same case as you. We realize that Muggles can contribute certain technology that may be beneficial to an investigation," Ron recited, wearing an expression that said he didn't quite believe it. He stopped, seeing the now-complete confusion on Agent Gibbs' face.  
"Muggle?" Gibbs asked, looking like he wasn't even sure he wanted to know.  
"Ah. Yes. Okay." Ron tried to think how best to breach the subject. "We, that is to say Hermione and me, are wizards. Well, Hermione's a witch but that's not important. A person, like you, who isn't a wizard or witch is a Muggle." Ron was quite pleased with his explanation, but Agent Gibbs was looking alarmed again.  
"You're crazy," he whispered. "You're insane. Please, just let me go."  
Ron sighed. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this. He took out his wand. "This," he explained. "Is a wand. Watch."  
He swished-and-flicked and, with a quiet "Wingardium Leviosa", levitated the saltshaker on the table. Agent Gibbs' eyes were back to dinner plates as he glanced from the saltshaker to Ron and back. Then he began to laugh, a nervous little giggle that was not at all joyful.  
"I'm the crazy one," he muttered. "I must be. This is too much; I've finally gone off the deep end." And with that, he fainted.  
  
********  
  
Gibbs could hear muffled voices somewhere above him. They might have been concerned; he wasn't awake enough to tell. He was feeling pretty good, except for the remnants of his strange and awful dream. He didn't want to wake up. This place, somewhere between sleep and waking, was quite nice. No terrorists, no murders, no problems. However, he didn't have much choice in the matter. A large quantity of very cold water suddenly pulled him from his half-conscious state. When he opened his eyes, he very nearly passed out again.  
He recognized the stone kitchen from what he had thought was an unpleasant dream. The freckled face of Ron Weasley swam in his vision.  
"You all right, mate? Didn't mean to scare you. Just had to prove – "  
"Ron, let him recover! Sorry, Agent Gibbs, Ron didn't mean any harm. And you're not going mad. Here (help me, Ron)," Hermione said as they heaved him onto a bench. "We'll take it slower this time. Oh, here's your coffee."  
Gibbs grabbed the mug she offered him and downed several gulps quickly. It certainly wasn't the best he had ever had, but it was coffee. Something familiar in this strange and eerie world. Gibbs squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that when he opened them again he would be back at NCIS Headquarters, trying to solve a murder. It was not to be. Gibbs decided that if he was going crazy, there wasn't much he could do about it and if he wasn't, he had better cooperate with these people who wanted to help him.  
"Okay," he said. "I'll help you. What do you know about LCDR Patterson?"  
Weasley and Hermione looked startled at his sudden change of attitude. Weasley recovered first, and tried to stifle a grin. Hermione, too, looked amused, though she was more polite about it.  
"Er, Agent Gibbs, I think, perhaps, that you should tell us what you know," Hermione said, quietly and respectfully, but with a distinct air of condescension. Gibbs could clearly see that he was not the superior here and accepted his new position graciously.  
"All right," he agreed. "Lieutenant Commander Tyler Patterson, United States Navy. Found dead outside Norfolk, VA. No wounds, no poison, no perceptible cause of death. I have my people working on his history, but I was, um, transferred before they found anything. That's all I know."  
Weasley and Hermione nodded knowingly. "Thank you," Hermione acknowledged. They whispered together for a few moments while Gibbs waited.  
"Um, excuse me?" he ventured. They looked up. "Not to be rude, but I told you what I know. What do I get in return?"  
They looked at each other, as if debating what to tell him. "Well, we can tell you that your LCDR Patterson was killed by a Killing Curse," Weasley started. "And that his name was not Tyler Patterson. He wasn't exactly in the Navy either."  
"What do you mean, he wasn't exactly in the Navy?" Gibbs asked.  
"Well, we don't know all the details yet," Hermione cautioned, clearly not wanting to tell him. "But he was definitely a wizard. We have ways of detecting Magic blood," she explained to Gibbs' curious look. "His name was...oh, yes. Richard Hart. We have a lower-level Auror-in-Training doing a Name Search Charm on old records."  
Gibbs squinted, like he did when he didn't understand something. "What exactly is an 'Auror'?"  
"Oh! Of course," Hermione said, embarrassed. "How silly of me. Aurors are dark-wizard catchers. Sort of like policemen for wizards." Hermione hesitated, like she was trying to decide whether or not to ask a question. "Er, Agent Gibbs, I was wondering...what exactly is it that you do?"  
"I'm a supervisor at NCIS. Naval Criminal Investigative Service," Gibbs explained. "It's kind of like the police of the Navy."  
"So we are in the same business after all! Excellent," piped in Weasley. "Well, shall we get back to the ministry?"  
Hermione nodded. "We just wanted to get you out of the magic," she explained to Gibbs. "Hope you don't mind Floo again."  
Gibbs made a face behind their backs. Whatever else he thought about this mysterious world, he decided he definitely did not like travel by Floo powder. 


	3. Connections

As soon as they got back to the Auror office, a very excited Colin Creevey ran up to them and began talking very fast. Ron held up a hand and he stopped, breathing hard.  
"Slow down, Colin," Ron begged. "Colin is the Auror-in-Training we have checking Hart's history," he explained to Gibbs. "What've you found?"  
"Richard Hart? The dead body? He was a You-Know-Who supporter. Not a Death Eater, he wasn't that high up. But he was high enough to know things. A lot of things. Anyway, he was charged with Muggle-baiting, Muggle torture, and use of near-Unforgivables. He was set to be tried about two years ago but it never happened. After that, he disappeared. No one ever heard from him again," Colin finished ominously. Ron thanked him and sent him on his way.  
Hermione gave Ron a significant look. He glanced furtively at Gibbs, wondering if the Muggle really could help and, if he could, if his help was worth the price. Finally he nodded at Hermione, agreeing to let Gibbs in on their discussion. They ducked into Ron's cubicle, which was covered in brightly colored posters of moving Quidditch players. To his credit, Gibbs did not run screaming from the place when one player smiled and waved at him. Ron supposed the earlier experience with the rude mug shot had prepared him.  
"So, what d'you reckon?" Ron opened.  
"W.I.Z.A.R.D.," Hermione answered confidently. Seeing Gibbs' uncomprehending look, she explained. "Wizard Integration and Zilching Arranged for Reasonable Defense. It's, um, it's like..." she struggled for the Muggle equivalent.  
"Witness Protection," Gibbs offered, catching on. "Witnesses or cooperatives in cases against dangerous and well-connected criminals are given new identities and relocated. Their previous identities are erased or, I suppose, 'zilched'."  
"That's exactly it," Hermione confirmed, beaming at Gibbs. "Hart must have traded information for his freedom. They relocated him to America and gave him a new name and job. Your LCDR Patterson."  
"So who killed him? And why?" Gibbs asked bluntly.  
There was a silence before Ron voiced what all of them were thinking. "Dunno."  
  
********  
  
Gibbs was frustrated. He hated not being able to solve a case, and this one was no different. Well, okay, it was very different, but it was still a case. He suddenly had a thought.  
"Do you have a phone?" he asked, feeling foolish for asking in this odd world.  
"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs, wizards don't use – " Hermione started before Weasley interrupted.  
"My dad probably has one lying around. I'll be right back." Weasley disappeared. Literally. It took Gibbs a moment to realize he had gone and a moment more to digest the fact. Gibbs was finding it easier to accept his surroundings the longer he was here.  
Five minutes later, Weasley reappeared, triumphantly grasping a telephone. The cord dangled uselessly from the end and Gibbs realized that, even with a phone, there probably wasn't a phone jack in this place. For some reason, he tried it anyway and to his surprise (well, not really, for nothing could surprise him anymore), it started ringing.  
"DiNozzo," came the voice, remarkably clear.  
"Tony, it's me."  
"Gibbs! Where are you? You just...disappeared!" Tony sounded worried.  
"I'm fine," Gibbs dodged the question. "Do you have the history on LCDR Patterson?"  
"Yeah, sort of," Tony answered.  
"What do you mean, 'sort of'? Either you do or you don't, DiNozzo," Gibbs demanded angrily.  
"I do, boss, it's just...There's not much there. It stops about two years back. I've looked and there isn't anything on Lieutenant Commander Tyler Patterson before spring of two years ago."  
"Yeah, that's about right. What do you have?"  
Tony didn't speak for a moment, startled. He had been sure Gibbs would chew his butt off for not getting more. "Uh...um...He came to Norfolk two years ago with references and an assignment to the commissary. Kept to himself, mostly, didn't get in any trouble. Not even a traffic ticket. We have his phone records; nothing unusual except one number. He called it every month, like clockwork. We traced it: it's a payphone in London. That's all we have."  
"Okay. Good work, DiNozzo." Gibbs hung up after getting the number from Tony. He thought for a few moments, then asked, "Do you have Hart's wife's address?"  
Hermione and Weasley looked surprised. "How d'you know he was married?" Weasley asked.  
"Just a hunch," Gibbs shrugged. "He kept calling a payphone in London. My guess is he wanted to keep in contact with his wife even with the, uh..."  
"W.I.Z.A.R.D.," Hermione provided.  
"Yeah, that. So, can you get he address?"  
Weasley and Hermione grinned. "We can do better than that, mate," Weasley said. Gibbs didn't quite trust their looks as Hermione grabbed a familiar container of glittering green powder.  
"Oh, no..."  
  
********  
  
Ron brushed himself off and smiled at Gibbs, who was looking rather sick again. "The best thing about Floo," Ron explained. "Is that you don't need an exact address. Well, usually. I just hope this is the right Mrs. Richard Hart."  
Gibbs looked as if he didn't believe there was anything good about Floo. Hermione had her wand out and was starting to explore the house. Gibbs reached for his side but came up empty. Ron suspected he was looking for his gun.  
"Looking for your sideleg?" Ron asked, trying to sound cool and knowledgeable. Hermione snorted and Gibbs smiled slightly.  
"Sidearm," he corrected. "And yes. I forgot I left it in my desk."  
"Ah. I've never understood Muggle weapons," Ron said thoughtfully. "A wand is so much more effective. And multipurpose," he added, opening a door just to demonstrated. Hermione screamed. Inside the door was a woman. She lay crumpled on the floor, as if her bones had been removed and she had just folded where she stood. She was, quite clearly, dead.  
Ron's face turned a nasty shade of green and he ran for the bathroom. They could hear him retching down the hall. Hermione did a bit better; she only covered her eyes and turned away. Gibbs was the only one who entered the room.  
"Where's Ducky when you need him?" he muttered, examining the scene. "Hey," he called to Hermione. "Can you, ah, make stuff...with that thing?" He gestured to her wand.  
"Yes," she said curiously. "What do you need?"  
"A liver thermometer," he said grimly.  
"Oh," she said, grimacing. "I'll try."  
She waved her wand and muttered something, and a liver thermometer appeared in the air. She handed to Gibbs, who looked rather astonished.  
"I've never done this before," he warned. He approximated the location of the liver and, wincing, inserted the thermometer. After a reading and a quick calculation, he determined that the woman, presumably Mrs. Hart, had been dead between 24 and 48 hours. Hermione confirmed her identity with a swift Identity Charm.  
Gibbs was beginning to put the pieces together. After Ron returned from the restroom, he told them his theory.  
"The murderer comes after Mrs. Hart. She knows where her husband is because of their routine phone calls. The perp gets it out of her and kills her. Then he goes after Patterson, or Hart, kills him and leaves nothing behind."  
"Maybe not nothing," Ron mused, realizing something. "The woman who found Hart's body said her son came running to the house, screaming. He was about to tell her something when his face went blank and a car backfired. Her son had forgotten whatever it was he was going to tell her."  
Hermione gasped. "Memory Modification and Disapparating! You think the boy saw..."  
"His face? Yeah. How do we get his memory back, though?"  
Hermione though for a moment, then her eyes widened. "Ron," she whispered. "Do you remember the Department of Mysteries?"  
"How could I forget?" He shuddered. "That brain hurt like – " He stopped abruptly. "You don't think..."  
Hermione nodded significantly. Gibbs looked from one to the other, completely lost but not wanting to disrupt their creative thinking process. Finally they looked at him apologetically.  
"We have to go back to the ministry," Hermione said sadly.  
Gibbs shook his head wildly. "No, please, no!" he pleaded.  
They had pity in their eyes as they carried him, screaming hysterically, to the fire and chucked him in. 


	4. Memories

A/N: Shannon – I agree, Gibbs is not one to scream and carry on. However, I believe Gibbs is so out of his element here that his usual reactions don't apply.  
  
They stood in a dark, circular room lit only by bluish torches burning in brackets against the walls. Several doors led off from the room; they were all identical. Hermione approached one, pushed it open, and shook her head. Closing it and marking it with a large, red X, she waited for the room to stop spinning before trying the next door. This time, she gave a shout of triumph.  
"This is it," she hissed excitedly. "The Brain Room."  
Ron shuddered and looked at the door apprehensively. Then, swallowing hard, he started forward. Gibbs followed, unsure of what he might find. He stepped into a dimly lit room and immediately saw a large tank in the center of the room. It was hard to miss; it took up half the room. Strange things floated around in the pale liquid, trailing something behind them. Gibbs started when he realized they were brains, wondering what was coming out of the ends. It looked almost like...film.  
Hermione bit her lip in thought. "I don't know exactly how this works," she apologized. "But I might have an idea..."  
"Be careful," Ron warned.  
"Memorius Revelus!" Hermione shouted, waving her wand toward the tank. The brains began to whirl around the tank, faster and faster, until they were just a blur. Hermione looked delighted that her idea had worked. "Robby Paulson!" She spoke the boy's name while making a strange, complicated movement with her wand. One brain approached the top of the tank. The side of the tank became something of a video screen, showing a short scene from the memory of the boy who had seen Richard Hart killed. The three of them watched the scene with interest.  
It started with a picture of trees and bushes, and Gibbs recognized the grove where LCDR Patterson's body had been found. A man's voice spoke loudly from behind a large bush. The scene moved closer. Now they could see around the bush, where two men stood. One, dressed in a Navy uniform, was clearly Richard Hart. The other was hidden in shadow. The shadowy figure stepped forward suddenly and waved his wand. A bright green flash illuminated his face for an instant as Richard Hart crumpled to the ground. The man pulled out a silvery cloth and flung it over himself. He disappeared, and the 'screen' went blank.  
"Well, we have his face now," Ron said, slightly encouraged.  
"Yeah," Gibbs replied. "But nothing else."  
  
********  
  
"D'you think the murderer knew he was in W.I.Z.A.R.D.?" Ron asked.  
"Possibly," Gibbs mused. "Obviously they knew he wasn't dead or in prison."  
"I've been thinking," Hermione spoke up. "Maybe it was one of the people he put in Azkaban. They would certainly have cause. And who else would use two, or three, Unforgivables to accomplish their goal?"  
"You have a good point," Gibbs agreed. "But what are Unforgivables?"  
"Oh!" Hermione said, surprised that they hadn't already told him. "Unforgivables are the three curses that will land you an automatic life sentence in Azkaban. The Imperius Curse: mind control, the Cruciatus Curse: torture, and Avada Kedavra: the Killing Curse. Most people don't think it's worth the risk, but a Death Eater who'd already been to Azkaban wouldn't have much to lose."  
"Ah. So how do we find out who Hart put in prison?" Gibbs asked, sure by now that they had some unconventional (to him) way to find the information.  
"Well," answered Hermione. "We could ask someone who was there."  
"That's it?" Gibbs asked in surprise. "No spell to search the records? No time-travel back to the trials? Just ask someone?"  
"Yes," Hermione sighed. "Unfortunately, the records are sealed and we'd need special permission to get a time-turner. But on the upside, we happen to know someone who was there and," she added. "You can't get there by Floo."  
Gibbs looked truly happy at this bit of information. He was slightly less happy when he found that their actual form of transportation was a flimsy looking broom. However, to his immense surprise, he found that he was a something of a natural when it came to flying. Ron showed him the basics but after about five minutes, he had the hang of it and was doing quite well by himself. He was, in fact, doing rather better than Hermione, who had never quite figured out flying.  
They set off, heading, as best Gibbs could figure, mostly north. They flew above the clouds to avoid, according to Hermione, being seen by Muggles. It was cold, but the sun shone and flying proved to be quite enjoyable. Gibbs was relishing the feel of the wind in his face; it reminded him of jumping from airplanes. After a few hours of pleasant soaring, Hermione shouted up to Ron.  
"It's coming up. We should start down," she yelled.  
Ron gave a hand signal indicating that he had heard and started into an easy dive. They got a good drenching as they descended through the cloud layer, before emerging above a beautiful countryside. Mountains ringed a green valley, where Gibbs saw a large lake in the middle of rolling foothills. Near the lake was a large, medieval-looking castle. Lights twinkled merrily in the windows and Gibbs could not help but feel secure. The place exuded a sense of comfort and hominess. As they came in for a gentle landing just outside the gates, Ron grinned widely.  
"Welcome to Hogwarts, Agent Gibbs."  
  
********  
  
They warmed themselves by Professor Dumbledore's fire as he bustled around the office preparing...something. He bent low by a cupboard, tugging something out of the doors. He straightened, and in his hands was a large stone basin carved with various symbols. A silvery light glistened from the top, illuminating Professor Dumbledore's face in eerie relief.  
"Tea?" he offered, as he set the stone basin on his desk.  
"No, thank you," Gibbs replied, trying hard not to make a face.  
"Yes, please," Ron accepted.  
"Is that a...Pensieve?" Hermione asked in awe, as if she had not heard the question.  
"Indeed, Miss Granger," Dumbledore answered as he waved his wand, conjuring a cup of tea for Ron. "My memory is not what it used to be, and I find that the Pensieve is very useful when trying to remember past events. Now, you wanted to know about the Death Eater trials two years ago?"  
"Yes, sir," Gibbs answered, unconsciously taking the lead of the team. He recognized the respect that Professor Dumbledore deserved, or else never would have called him 'sir'. "Specifically, which Death Eaters were convicted on Richard Hart's information."  
"Ah, yes," Dumbledore remembered as he prodded the Pensieve with his wand. "Richard Hart. A curious case, that. The first W.I.Z.A.R.D. case we have had in a very long time. He put five top Death Eaters in Azkaban, maybe more. Which ones, you ask? Let's see..."  
He continued poking the stuff in the basin, which swirled and changed colors. Eventually a figure emerged from the top, a pale but good-looking man sitting chained in a chair. He was speaking in a confident, almost bored, tone.  
"Lucius Malfoy, of course," he said in a smooth, unfriendly voice. "He was You-Know-Who's right-hand man. Patrick Hayes was his chief Imperiator, in charge of mind control. Gretchen Leddy was one of his top spies, used her 'feminine wiles' to gather information. Timothy Rory was responsible for the Cruciatus Curse, training and regulation. Floyd Sweeney was director of Operations, put the Dark Lord's plans into action. Vivian Westin was manager of Personnel; she directed recruitment and punishment."  
The man stopped speaking and sank back into the Pensieve. Dumbledore gazed up at the three as if asking if that was what they had wanted. Gibbs nodded in thanks as Hermione finished scribbling the names onto a scrap of parchment. The three stood and shook Dumbledore's hand, starting for the door while voicing their appreciation. Dumbledore stopped them at the door.  
"How were you planning on getting back to London?" he asked conversationally.  
"We brought brooms," Ron explained.  
"Might I offer the services of our thestral herd? Night is fast approaching and thestral travel is much faster than broomsticks."  
Ron and Hermione exchanged uneasy looks. They clearly did not like the idea but did not want to offend Professor Dumbledore by refusing his offer. Gibbs took charge again.  
"We would appreciate that, Professor," he answered politely. He hoped thestrals were nothing like Floo.  
Dumbledore summoned a very large man by the name of Hagrid to his office and asked him to please fetch three thestrals from the forest. Hagrid started off, his humongous steps thundering down the staircase. Twenty minutes later, they again felt his approach and he burst through the door.  
"They're waitin' fer yeh, Headmaster," Hagrid said.  
"Thank you, Hagrid," Dumbledore nodded, before leading them downstairs.  
Gibbs wasn't sure what to think of the thestrals. On first glance, they looked something like horses, but they most definitely were not. Long snouts protruded downward from blank eyes and their skeletal appearance gave them an eerie, haunted feel. Their wings were bat-like, and Gibbs supposed that overall they reminded him mostly of dragons.  
Ron and Hermione were looking around, as if they could not see the thestrals. Ron was muttering something about, "unnatural beasts" and Hermione wore a nervous expression.  
"I take it, Agent Gibbs, that you have seen death?" a soft voice asked behind him.  
Gibbs turned quickly to see Professor Dumbledore gazing thoughtfully at him. "Um, yes. I work in Law Enforcement. And I was a Marine before that." Gibbs was not sure why exactly he told Dumbledore this, but the man inspired a deep trust, even in the cynical Gibbs.  
"You will have to help Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, then," Dumbledore said without explanation. "As they have not yet, thankfully, been exposed to that awful experience." With that, he swept his robes around him and returned to his office.  
"Thestrals can only be seen by those who have seen death," Hermione explained.  
"Oh," Gibbs replied, unsure of what else to say. He helped Ron and Hermione mount their steeds, then approached his own. He supposed it couldn't be too different from getting on a horse. He settled awkwardly behind the wings and turned to Ron and Hermione. They were both wearing looks of extreme discomfort and Gibbs imagined it must be very strange to sit on a horse you couldn't see.  
"Er," Ron said. "I guess...Ministry of Magic, please." He spoke toward the head of his thestral. Suddenly, all three rose quickly into the air. The thestrals were not the most comfortable ride, but Gibbs found it quite similar to a military transport. His only worry was that he might doze off and fall from his mount.  
"This is better than Floo by a long shot," he muttered to himself. 


	5. Solutions

They touched down surprisingly lightly outside the telephone booth that was the Visitor's Entrance to the Ministry of Magic. Gibbs slipped off his thestral easily, then helped Ron and Hermione. Ron tottered unsteadily, quite unsettled by his second flight by invisible flying horse. Hermione was obviously trying to hold herself together but not doing so well. Her pale face was tinged with green and she gazed around dazedly. Gibbs strode confidently to the telephone booth and waited impatiently for the two. By the time they got back to Auror Headquarters, however, both Ron and Hermione were looking quite a bit better.  
"Creevey!" Ron called. The small, excitable blond boy ran up to them, eager for orders. "We need some more name searches."  
They gave Colin the names of the six Death Eaters that Hart had put in Azkaban and he ran off to find out what he could. While they waited, Ron drilled Gibbs on life in the Muggle world.  
"So how do you find information?" Ron asked earnestly.  
"Well, uh," Gibbs started, a bit taken aback by Ron's fervor. "It's called the 'Internet'. You, um, type in a word, or a name, and it returns the information."  
"Wicked," Ron breathed in awe. "Dad brought a ripe-tighter home once. Never knew it could do stuff like that."  
"A what?"  
"A ripe-tighter! You know, that thing with the letters that goes back and forth?"  
"A typewriter! No," Gibbs laughed, understanding. "We use a computer. It's kind of like that, only it has a screen and you can plug it in to other computers. That's really what the Internet is, a network of computers all connected and exchanging information."  
Ron stared at him in fascination during this explanation, though he had no clue what Gibbs was talking about. Gibbs was saved from more awkward explanations by Colin returning from his search.  
"What'd you find?" Ron asked bluntly.  
"Well, not much. Lucius Malfoy is still in the maximum-security section of Azkaban. Patrick Hayes died three months ago after an escape attempt. Gretchen Leddy tried to escape with him but didn't fight as hard when they caught her. She's in solitary confinement. Timothy Rory, Floyd Sweeney, and Vivian Westin are all safely in their cells in the medium- security section. I confirmed all of this with the guards," Colin finished, almost apologetically.  
"All right," Hermione frowned. "Thanks, Colin." He ran off again, surprising Gibbs with his seemingly boundless energy.  
"Where does that leave us?" Ron asked despondently.  
"I have an idea," Gibbs answered.  
  
********  
  
The three of them walked silently through the grove. Ron and Hermione had their wands out. They broke into the open, their grim expressions illuminated by the pale moonlight. Hart's body was gone, but the scene was otherwise the same. Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances, wondering if Gibbs' plan would work. Gibbs himself appeared supremely unconcerned, all the while keeping an alert watch.  
"Put the wands down," a cold voice spoke from behind them. "Now!"  
Ron and Hermione slowly placed their wands on the ground, turning to face their ambusher. They recognized his face from the memory of Robby Paulson: a long, not altogether bad-looking face ringed by thick brown hair. It could have belonged to anyone on the street; the only distinguishing feature was a thin, jagged scar running from his right eye to his upper lip. The pearly white scar pulled his mouth in a permanent sneer, making his otherwise friendly face look hateful. His blue eyes were cold and unfeeling.  
"Who are you?" asked Ron bravely, his voice quivering slightly.  
The man laughed, but the sound bore no feeling of happiness or humor. "You know who I am," he replied frostily. "Or you would not be here. It is unfortunate, however," he added, seemingly bored. "Because I will have to kill you now. So inconvenient," he sighed.  
"Why did you kill LCDR Patterson?" Gibbs piped up. The man had so far ignored Gibbs, but now turned to him with an expression of distaste.  
"Why do you care, Muggle?" he asked.  
"We want to know why a well-respected Auror would kill an informant," Hermione answered for him.  
The man rounded on her furiously. "Well-respected? I was the best Auror in the program. I caught more Death Eaters than anyone. I brought Hart in. He fought, he did, but I was too good for him." The man traced his scar almost absent-mindedly. "He was one of the worst, and the smartest. He was bright enough to get involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named without committing himself too much. That gave him an out, bargaining power when he got caught. He gave the Ministry enough Death Eaters to get himself out. They thought he was reformed, got him into W.I.Z.A.R.D. They disrespected me! They cared nothing for my years of service, my commitment to the Aurory. I caught Hart, and they let him go." The man's voice had an edge of insanity, through the obvious anger.  
"But he gave them six top Death Eaters," Hermione said, sounding disgusted by this man's apparent delusion and pride.  
"They let him go," he snarled, his face twisted in rage. "He was my prize catch, and they let him go."  
"Aurors serve the public, not their own selfish pride," Ron spat.  
"When you make your first catch, boy," the man stated with great confidence. "You will understand. Now – "  
"Why use an Unforgivable?" Hermione asked.  
"Because it is easier," the man said openly. "The inconvenience of tracking Hart down tired me. It is much simpler." He said this so matter- of-factly that he might have been discussing the advantages of cleaning with magic rather than Muggle methods.  
"You're mad," Ron whispered in horror. "You're sick."  
The man laughed again, with no emotion. "Perhaps," he shrugged. "But no matter. I shall kill you now, and no one will ever be the wiser."  
"I'm sorry," Gibbs spoke up again. "I can't let you do that."  
The man turned toward him with a cross of amusement and annoyance. "What do you think you're going to do about it, Muggle? I could kill you, too, in an instant if I wanted to. But," he nodded, smiling, as if he were granting Gibbs a wonderful favor. "I will spare you. If only because Muggles are too stupid to do anything, and it would therefore be a pointless exercise to bother killing you." He turned back to Ron and Hermione and raised his wand.  
He opened his mouth to utter the Killing Curse, when a roar echoed through the grove and he fell to the ground. Ron and Hermione stood, open- mouthed, staring at Gibbs. He remained stock-still, his arm raised and holding his newly reacquired gun. He strode to the fallen Seth Gristlemore, checking to see that he was still alive. Kicking his wand out of his hand, he spoke with disgust to the rogue.  
"Never underestimate a Marine."  
  
********  
  
Ron finished dictating the report to his quill and gathered up the pages of parchment. Hermione sat nearby, her nose buried, as usual, in a thick book. Gibbs was watching a Quidditch poster with fascination, having become quite intrigued by the game in the past few days.  
"How's that?" Ron asked, handing his report to Hermione to check over.  
She perused it quickly, nodding now and then. "Not bad. You left out some things, though. Gristlemore quit the Aurory because he was insulted, yes, but he was about to be fired anyway for his attitude toward Muggles. And you didn't put in anything about Agent Gibbs' idea."  
Ron looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, er, I didn't know how it would look if a Muggle was the one to plan the arrest."  
Hermione frowned. "Careful, Ron. That's how Gristlemore started: with a doubt of Muggles' abilities. It was a good idea and it worked. I think, Ron, that our superiors will actually be most pleased that you had the good sense to involve outside help."  
"Yeah, okay. Give it here, then." Ron took the parchment from Hermione and added a goodly portion to the end.  
"Agent Gibbs," Hermione asked, a bit hesitantly. "I've been meaning to ask you. How did you know it was Gristlemore? And that he would fall for the trap?"  
Gibbs turned from the Quidditch poster. "Well, I figured after the people he'd put in prison, the only one who'd want to kill Hart would be the one who brought him in. The fact that Gristlemore quit right after Hart got off pretty much proved that. It seemed like he quit because he was too arrogant to see his prisoner go free graciously. I counted on that pride to draw him to us when we sent out the word that we knew who'd killed Hart." Gibbs spoke quietly and modestly, then turned back to the Quidditch poster.  
Hermione was gazing admiringly at Gibbs. Ron frowned at the look on her face, then glared at Gibbs' back. Gibbs remained quite absorbed by the Quidditch poster, completely unaware of the eyes on him. Suddenly, he looked at his watch.  
"I should probably be going back," he said, almost regretfully. "I don't know how I'm going to write this one up."  
Hermione smiled. "Sorry, Agent Gibbs. I'm sure you'll think of something."  
Ron continued glaring and didn't say anything. Gibbs looked a bit confused at Ron's behavior, but then saw the lingering smile on Hermione's face and understood.  
"So, um," he started, unsure how to ask. "Could you take me back to NCIS Headquarters?" He directed the question at Ron.  
Ron scowled but nodded. "Follow me," he sighed.  
Gibbs followed, but as soon as they were out of earshot of Hermione, he steered Ron into a deserted room.  
"What – " Ron protested.  
"Just listen," Gibbs insisted. He looked around to be sure they were alone. Satisfied, he turned back to Ron. "Buy her flowers."  
Ron blinked. "I'm sorry?" he asked in a tone that suggested he wondered about Gibbs' sanity.  
But Gibbs did not elaborate. "Buy her flowers," he repeated.  
They left the room, Ron in the lead, Gibbs whistling softly. Ron led Gibbs to an office marked 'Portkey Authority'. Knocking, they entered to find a room littered with an odd assortment of items. A witch sat behind a desk amid the conglomeration of pots, balls, old bags, metal pipes, and other various bits of trash. The largest item in the room was a table Gibbs recognized from the NCIS interrogation room.  
"Ron Weasley," Ron directed to the witch. "And Agent Jethro Gibbs. We need to pick up the portkey back to NCIS Headquarters."  
"NC-what?" the witch asked.  
Gibbs snorted quietly. Even wizards had trouble with it.  
"N. C. I. S," Ron said slowly and clearly. "It's, er, the unauthorized one that came in two days ago," he added embarrassedly.  
"Oh," said the witch in sudden comprehension. "You're that Ron Weasley. It's that table over there."  
"Thank you," Ron said, stepping over to the table with Gibbs. "You're sure you won't be seen?"  
"It's four in the morning in Washington," Gibbs said. "I'm the only one who gets to the office that early."  
"Right. Okay, then. You just touch the table," Ron explained. "And it'll take you right back."  
"Got it. Well, Weasley," Gibbs said gruffly, with more of his usual brusqueness. He stuck out his hand. "It's been...interesting."  
"Yeah. Same to you, mate." Ron shook Gibbs' hand. "Maybe we'll meet again someday."  
"If I ever need a Silencing Charm," he grinned. "I'll call you. Might be good for DiNozzo..." he added under his breath.  
"Oh," Ron said suddenly. "I almost forgot. Hermione wanted to give you this." He pulled from his pocket a small picture of Ron, Hermione, and another boy Gibbs didn't recognize. They waved enthusiastically at him. "Bit of a souvenir, I s'pose," Ron explained.  
Gibbs thanked him and decided it really was time to go. Too much longer and people would start coming into the office. He couldn't risk being seen appearing, with a table, from nowhere. He reached out, slightly apprehensive, to the table. He didn't remember his first portkey journey too well; he had been a bit in shock that time. The second his fingers touched the table, he felt a jerk behind his navel and a rush of swirling color. The table seemed to be pulling him forward and his fingers were stuck to it as if by superglue.  
His feet hit the ground with a thud. He stumbled slightly, then regained his footing. He stood in the dark interrogation room, completely alone. He sighed, then walked slowly up to his cubicle. Might as well get a start on work, since he'd missed two days.  
He worked in silence for a few hours, before the lights flickered on and Kate walked into the office. She didn't notice him for a few moments as she busied herself getting the office ready for the day. Suddenly, she became aware of the other person in the room.  
"Gibbs!" she exclaimed. "Where on earth have you been?"  
Gibbs was slightly surprised that her voice, like Tony's a couple of days earlier, held a distinct note of worry. He considered his reply. What could he say? He had been to London, to Scotland, to a medieval castle, to a government office for wizards. He smiled slightly, fingering the picture in his pocket. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." 


End file.
